


Hippie Girl, 50 cents

by baezechirrut



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Drug Use, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baezechirrut/pseuds/baezechirrut
Summary: Cliff buys himself another acid-dipped cigarette. Rick questions Cliff’s decision making, but at the same time, he sometimes enjoys when Cliff gets high off his mind.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	Hippie Girl, 50 cents

**Author's Note:**

> I only know how to write porn no deep thoughts here sorry lol

Cliff stays over on nights when Rick doesn’t work the next day. He drives to pick Rick up in the mornings with Brandy at his side, her tongue out in anticipation of playing her comfortable second home. She enjoys the well-manicured grass, the pool out in the back, and the snacks Rick will sneak her under the table. 

“Hey girl” Rick says, scratching behind her ears. “You miss me?”

She nearly ran him over when Cliff opened the door to the Volkswagen. Rick has been busy shooting a movie recently, and the days off were short and far between. It had been a week since Cliff had brought her over, and the hot days really had her missing the pool in the back yard. 

They let her inside, and she curls up on the couch to take a quick nap. 

“Well, she’s made herself at home,” Rick laughs. 

“Yeah,” Cliff smirks. “You ready to go?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, let me grab the keys.”

-

Cliff stops the coupe behind the prop house. He rests his arm on the back of the seat and turns towards Rick. With a sly little smirk, he raises his eyebrows at the man in the passenger seat. 

“Again?” Rick laughs.

“You know I ain’t moving the car ‘til you do,” Cliff says. 

“Alright, come here you fuckin’ asshole.”

Rick leans over to kiss his blond stuntman on the lips. He feels Cliff’s dry lips stretch into a smile.

Once their lips come apart with a soft wet sound, Rick pushes Cliff back into the driver’s seat. 

“Come on,” he said. “The lot’s that way.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They drive the next three minutes to the lot, Rick staring out the window the whole way, mouthing his lines. The car rolls to a stop and they both get out. 

“How’s it goin’ Randy?” Rick says with a wave. 

“Hey, Rick,” he greets back. He only acknowledges the man behind him with a nod. “Cliff.”

“Randy,” he says back. “‘m I workin’ today?”

Randy scratches the bridge of his nose under his sunglasses. He sounded like he didn’t want to say it, but gave Cliff an exasperated, “Yeah, we start after lunch.”

Rick walks over to the trailer marked as his to set his things down. Cliff follows behind him, closing the door behind the both of them. 

“You gonna stay ‘til you’re up?” Rick asks. 

“The car needs gas,” Cliff says, jutting a thumb behind him. “I’ll be back by 11.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he steps backwards to leave. He spins around on his heels at the door and sets his hand on the door handle. Just as he was about to open the door, Rick calls behind him. 

“Cliff?”

“Yeah?”

“Buy a stick of lip balm while you’re out,” He says. “I feel like I’m kissing a fuckin’ lizard.”

Cliff huffs a laugh. 

“Will do, partner.”

He closes the door behind him again before heading back to the Cadillac, smiling to himself like an idiot. 

-

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Cliff greeted the young hippie girl who leaned in to the open car window. He’d just happened to stop at the same light he did over a year and a half ago for the first time. Cliff had been stopping by once every couple of months since that August night. Rick would ask him if that night didn’t teach him a goddamn lesson, but to tell the truth, the trip felt good. 

“You want another cig?” She asks. 

“Yeah, sure. Still 50 cents?”

“Yeah.”

Cliff goes through the spare change Rick had left in the car. He hands the girl two quarters in exchange for a dusty yellow cigarette. 

He waves a half-assed peace sign at the girl as he drives on towards the gas station. It’s a bit of a reach from the studio, but Cliff liked this one. The old man who runs the place always gave him an extra roll of mints when he filled up. Today was the same. The old man smiles at him as Cliff asks for gas. He puts down a crumpled ten dollar bill on the counter. 

“You got any lip balm or somethin’?” 

-

Randy hated to say it, but Cliff was a talented stuntman. He could jump off of horses and buildings, play a convincing fight scene, and he could really drive a car. Cliff worked his job as if he didn’t fear death. He overheard him once talking to another stuntman. 

“I’ve got more to worry about,” he’d said. When asked the specifics, he stayed quiet. 

Back in the trailer, Rick was placing a bandage on the scratches on his forearms he got from rolling onto them jumping out of a car. Rick was a sidekick in some spy flick this time. He hadn’t seen the script, but it was probably going to end with a twist that he was the villain all along. 

Cliff was brought back from letting his mind wander when Rick opened his mouth. 

“You didn’t wear enough padding,” He pointed out, taping gauze onto the torn skin. 

“Didn’t think I needed much.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Cliff shrugged.

“Nothing’s broken,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“But what if you weren’t?”

There was a slight falter in his voice.

-

His heart still races when he thinks about that night. It was supposed to be a calm night out with Cliff for the last time. They were going to get blind drunk at their favorite restaurant, head home, maybe have some more to drink, and wake up the next morning with a raging hangover. Not saying that those things didn’t happen, but the unexpected happened as well.

Rick was floating in the pool, minding his own business, and listening to some dumb music that was playing on the radio when something — no, someone crashed through his living room window and fell into the pool.

Rick Dalton never expected to ever get real blood on his hands, but life never worked the way he’d wanted it seemed. 

Standing over the charred body floating now lifeless in the pool, he suddenly returned to his senses and called out for his new wife who was inside the house.

He never did find out Francesca was okay until the police and ambulance arrived. Probably one of the things that annoyed her to the point of divorce.

“Cliff? Cliff buddy, c’mon wake up.The ambulance is comin’ any minute now.”

For some reason he was on the verge of tears.

When he said tonight was going to be their last ride together, he didn’t mean it like this.

“Oh... heyyyy boss...”

The piece of shit was fucking laughing when he came to; knife still jutting out from the side of his thigh. The dark red blood staining his white denim made the wound look worse than it probably was, but Rick was shaking in worry and fear, holding Cliff close to his chest.

“Whoa,” he said. His eyes were dilated and he was acting fucking weird. 

“You’re so... wet...?”

“A-are you fuckin’ high right now?”

Cliff gave him a snort of a laugh and waved his hands around as if to explain.

“Yeahhhh... y’remember? Hippie girl... fifty cents... Think the acid’s really kickin’ in now man,” Cliff said, a little slower than usual. “Wait... are you wet? Did I just piss myself? Shit...”

Rick laughed a bit through the tears. 

“Nah... Th-this crazy motherfucker came through the damn window into the f-fuckin’ pool, man,” Rick stuttered. “She had a fuckin’ gun... started shootin’ the damn thing.”

He explained he fell into the pool and happened to remember that he kept the flamethrower in the back shed. 

“She’s burnt to a crisp, Cliff.”

“And you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “You’re the one with the fuckin’ steak knife in your leg! It doesn’t matter how I am.”

“Fuck, Rick,” the man laying in his arms sighed. “Man, if anything’d happened to you and I was just layin’ on the floor like this, I would’ve blown my brains out.”

“Sh-shut the fuck up. What the hell do you mean?”

Cliff, getting a little loopy from the LSD and the blood loss, patted Rick on the cheek with a limp hand. It was affectionate in a strange way, and it made Rick’s heart jump. 

“You know I’d kill myself for you, partner.”

“Wh-“

Before he could ask again, sirens and bright flashing lights came up the hill on Cielo Drive.

-

“Bought me another one of those acid-dipped cigarettes,” Cliff said on their drive home. 

Rick just raises an eyebrow in slight disdain. 

“You gonna smoke that tonight?”

“Maybe. Why, you wanna share?”

Cliff patted the breast pocket containing the cigarette. 

“I’m good,” Rick said, lighting a regular cigarette. “Just... let me know if you are.”

-

They get home before the sun starts to set. Cliff throws Rick the keys as they both get out of the car. He catches it in his right hand and unlocks the front door. 

“Brandy,” Rick whistles. She comes barreling towards the front door as soon as she hears her name being called. She licks at his face as he kneels to her height. 

“You wanna play in the yard?”

She barks in response. 

Rick opens the door to the back yard and watches as she dashed through the lawn. Grass was a luxury she could enjoy here. 

“I’m borrowing the shower. You mind watching her for a bit?” Cliff asks, leaning against the doorframe. It’s not fair the way he carries himself like an Ancient Greek sculpture, Rick thinks. He’s especially glowing in the orange light of the sunset.

“Yeah, sure.”

-

Cliff finds Rick sitting poolside and dozing off as Brandy splashed about in the pool at the steps. 

He walks over to him, barefoot and hair still wet. 

“Tired?”

“Sh-shit,” Rick stuttered, jolting awake. “You scared me.”

Cliff sits down on the deck chair next to him, dragging it a foot or so closer on the concrete. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” He asks. 

Rick stares off into the purplish horizon in contemplation. He takes a long sip of the whiskey sour he had made himself. 

“Kinda feelin’ just staying in tonight.”

“You wanna order some pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

Cliff gets up and whistles. 

“C’mon girl.”

Brandy jumps out of the pool and shakes the water off of her short fur. She pads over to the two of them, tongue out in a wide smile.

Back inside the house, Cliff walks over to the phone and Rick to the bedroom. He can hear the faint sound of Cliff on the phone as he changes into his more comfortable clothes. Rick smiles at the domesticity of it all before stepping back into the living room. 

-

Three quarters of a pizza, a couple of margaritas, and a whole pack of beer later, Rick and Cliff were feeling a bit drunk; Cliff rambling on about some movie he’d seen the night prior. 

“Wh-why’re you talkin’ like you’ve seen every movie this guy’s made huh?” He’s starting to string his words together as he leans into Cliff’s shoulder. 

“You know I live behind a drive-in,” Cliff says, stroking Rick’s hair. 

“Right,” he says. Rick turns his head to look Cliff in his greenish blue eyes. “I’ve only been there once though. And you ain’t even let me inside.”

“Mmh, it’s a fuckin’ mess in there.”

He places his lips on Rick’s forehead. His hair tickles his nose as he breathes in. 

Rick turns to face the TV again, the storyline long lost to conversation. He toes at Cliff’s jacket that had been haphazardly thrown on the arm of the couch and kicks it to his chest. He rustles through the pockets to pick out the cigarette and holds it up to the light. 

“Thought you said your booze don’t need no buddy,” Cliff points out. 

“Nah... just thought you’d want it.”

Cliff raised a brow in confusion. 

“What’re you on about?” 

Rick puts the yellowed cigarette between Cliff’s half open lips. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Rick says, drunkenly patting Cliff on the head.

Even drunk, Cliff knew what would follow. 

-

“Whoa,” Cliff chuckled.

Even in the dimmed light of the bedroom, he could make out the silhouette of Rick’s naked torso. 

The bed dips when he climbs into it to sit next to Cliff; the stuntman reaching his hands out to touch the bare skin. It’s soft and smooth, looking the complete opposite of how his own, marred with scars from war and stunting. 

“You look fuckin’ delectable,” Cliff said with a deep exhale. He rolls on to his front and presses his face into the slight softness of Rick’s stomach. Rick giggles as he feels teeth scrape against the skin. 

“H-hey!”

Rick swats at Cliff’s head when he bites him. It doesn’t hurt, but this was new. 

“You smoke that cig?” Rick asks.

“Think I might’ve.” Cliff replies. There he goes, asking again. 

“Why?” 

“I like the way you fuck when you’re high,” he says, matter of factly. He leans back on to the headboard as Cliff slides his hands up his sides, playfully nipping and kissing his body. 

“What’s there to like?” He asks.

“You make me feel like there ain’t anything you want more than me.”

“‘s the truth,” Cliff says into Rick’s chest. 

“Then show me.”

-

“Nn, ah, fuck...! Harder, Cliff! Fuck me like you fuckin‘ mean it!”

The air in the room felt thick with heat, sweat, and the unmistakable musk of sex. 

Cliff grabs Rick’s squirming waist to steady himself before ramming his hips into his partner’s ass with a wet slap. The impact of Cliff’s surprisingly strong thrusts make Rick see sparks flash in his eyes. 

“God, Rick you feel so... good,” Cliff drawls, grinding his hips deeper into the darker haired man. 

“Mmh, fuck, you’re s-so fuckin’ big...!”

Cliff smirked. Rick would rarely be vocal during sex, but today was different. Not that he didn’t like it; it was fucking hot. He decided to roll with it. 

“You like that?”

Cliff seems almost mesmerized by the glow of the sheen of sweat on Rick’s back. He catalogues every freckle and spot to memory as he trails his eyes down to the point they were connected at. It’s a fucking hypnotic sight, Cliff thought. The way Rick’s hole was stretched around his girth gave him more of a buzz than any drug. He leans forward to bite at Rick’s shoulder. 

“Shit, y-yeah,” He shuddered at the teeth digging into his flesh. “Fuck, I’m g-gonna come... C-Cliff, stop...!”

It took a lot out of him to stop himself, but Cliff restrained the urge to keep going. 

“What is it? You hurt?”

“N-no,” Rick said, craning his neck to look back at him. “I just... wanna see your face.”

Cliff felt as if he were shot through the fucking heart. He loves when Rick asks things of him. He pulls out, still rock hard, and waits for Rick to roll himself over to lie on his back. He immediately stretches his arms out to invite Cliff back to him. With a smile of acknowledgement, he lines his cock up to Rick’s hole, loose and waiting for him to come back inside. He pushes the tip in before shifting his body so that his face was mere inches from Rick’s, trapped in between Cliff’s arms. Rick’s legs wrap around his scarred waist to assist in burying Cliff’s cock inside him again. 

“Oh, fuck,” both say almost in unison. 

Angling his hips, Cliff moves deliberately to hit Rick’s prostate every time he thrusts, trying to tip him over the edge. He knows he’s close by how desperate the clawing at his back is becoming. 

“C-Cliff, Cliff...!” Rick’s eyes squeeze shut. “I-I’m coming...!”

“I know,” Cliff says, getting down on his forearms to free his hands. He smooths down the sweat slicked hair to guide Rick through the pleasure. “Fuck, you look so good right now.”

Rick’s whole body shakes as he comes almost violently. His hands grip at Cliff’s dusty blond hair and his whole body contracts, his already tight ass squeezing harder around Cliff. 

Chest red, heaving, and spattered with his own fluids, his body relaxes. His sight is a bit blurry, tears welled in his blue eyes as he looks up to gaze at his stuntman. 

“Fuck, Rick... can I come inside you?” He asks.

Rick likes the desperation in his voice. He rarely can hear Cliff sound like this. Mr. I Try, Zen motherfucker. 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Rick teases.

“Please?”

Cliff is surprisingly good at making puppy eyes at Rick. He raises his eyebrows in just the right way and pouts his lower lip out just enough to crack the fake stern face Rick was pulling. 

“Do it,” he said. “I wanna f-feel you in me.”

Cliff gives him a wolf whistle. 

“Now that’s something I rarely hear from Rick Fuckin’ Dalton,” he muttered. 

Grinding his hips into Rick’s perineum, Cliff bottoms out inside of him. 

“Fuck...”

“C-Cliff,” Rick mutters, hands reaching up to hold his face close. “You feel s-so good.”

Reopening his tightly shut eyes, Cliff stares back into the blue ones that look at him. Fingers caress his cheeks and slide up to the side of his eyes. 

“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” Rick said, thumbing at his stuntman’s eyelids.

Shit.

Rick stares into Cliff’s equally blue eyes with his brows furled. At this point, it was too late. Rick could clearly see that Cliff’s eyes weren’t at all dilated.

“...you fucker,” he mutters. 

Cliff tries to move his face further away, but Rick didn’t let him. 

“I thought you said you fuckin’ smoked the cigarette!”

-

“So you’re tellin’ me that you wanted me to get high off my goddamn mind so I wouldn’t remember anything you’d say in bed tonight?”

The two of them sat soaking in the bathtub, Rick’s back pressed against Cliff’s chest. 

“Y-you don’t have to say it out fuckin’ loud asshole.”

He couldn’t see his face, but Cliff was sure Rick was red as a beet. His ears sure were. Chuckling at the sight, Cliff’s arms hugged Rick close. 

“Come on, partner,” he said into his ear. “You were so fuckin’ hot tonight.” 

Thought I could’ve gone for another two rounds, Cliff whispered. 

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” Rick snarled into Cliff’s arms. 

The bathroom stayed quiet except for the sound of water splashing at the side of the tub. 

“You’ve got another two days off,” Cliff noted. 

“And?”

“You wanna get high and fuck ‘till we both forget everything?”

Rick squeezes at Cliff’s thigh in annoyance. 

“Very funny.”

The comfortable weight that was sat on Cliff’s chest peeled off and the now lukewarm water sits lower in the tub. He stares at his man’s back side; beautiful, pale, and unlike his own body, without even a scratch upon his skin. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” he says as he covers himself with a strangely garish robe. 

“Can’t help it,” Cliff replies back. 

The bathroom fills with the sound of Rick’s hearty laugh. Tying the belt of his robe, he cocks his head towards the door with a grin on his face. 

“C’mon, Cliff. Let’s go to bed.”

With a crooked smile in return, Cliff drains the tub and follows suit.

**Author's Note:**

> HMU on Twitter where I’m most active @tarmacscene or if you just want NSFW art and no dumb rambling @tswnhrart


End file.
